undeadfanstoriesfandomcom-20200214-history
UFSW Hunger Games/Issue 3
This is Issue 3 of the UFSW Hunger Games. It is written by KnowledgeProspector. Issue 3 “Now let the games begin.” Cole echoes the last line of the note throughout the small, concrete room. He was sitting against one of the walls, his legs folded to his chest. The ache on his forehead discouraged him from standing up. He looks to the two other people in the room; Billie Starr, who was looking at him with a troubled look of her own, and Adam Dugall, who was looking away, deep in thought. “Forty-eight people…” Adam said. “… and one survivor?” All eyes transfer to him. “No, no…” Billie paces the room. “Th-this doesn’t make sense. Someone’s playing with us.” Adam walks over to Cole and offers him a hand; Cole gladly receives it, and Adam pulls him up. “Whatever the fuck it is, I don’t have time for it.” Cole crumples the note into a ball, and exchanges looks between Adam and Billie. “We’ve gotta get back to the Hyatt. God knows what could be happening over there right now.” Cole does a quick scan of the room and sees two entryways; one sealed by a dusty door with a missing knob, and one without a door at all. He looks at the balled-up piece of paper and is about to discard it, but decides against it. “Let’s head over there,” he says to the pair, pointing to the doorway behind Billie. Billie goes out first, surveying what led to it; it was a narrow hallway with two ends. The one to her left had a noticeable dim, white lighting. “Here—” Cole pats Adam on his shoulder, and shows him the balled-up piece of paper. “Might make more sense to you.” Adam takes it and unravels it, as they both follow Billie toward the hallway. “… each and every one of you… only one can live…” Adam mutters the lines of the conspicuous note to himself. Billie has already found the front door leading them out of the place; she opens it and scurries outside. “… to be eliminated…” Adam mutters, pausing at that line. He looks up and finds himself alone. “Cole? Billie?” “Right here,” Cole calls from behind him. He turns around and sees him brandishing a screwdriver. “Just in case.” Adam nods once, and looks toward the opened entrance. “Where the hell is Billie…?” They both step out of the doors, into the short set of stairs leading into the sidewalk. Distant figures of what looked like infected could be seen to their left and right. “What’s that?” Cole asks Billie, who was standing a few feet to their left, looking at a newspaper; she must have gotten it from the dust-covered bin in front of her. Cole walks beside her and takes a look. There was nothing out of the ordinary from the newspaper, aside for its decaying color and faded text. Headlines and words of the dead terrorizing the streets were written. Cole tries to make sense of it, but Billie starts shuffling through the pages. “Virginia…” She shuffles through two more pages. “Busch Garden… White House… Fairfax…” She glances her surroundings as she continuously read through the names that stood out. “Are we in D.C.?” Adam asks; Billie turns to him, giving him a distressed look as if he confirmed her thoughts. “No. No, we can’t fucking be in D.C.—” Cole snatches the paper from Billie, disbelief slowly consuming him. Billie steps in the middle of the street and looks at the names on the distant traffic signs. She pauses, and turns to the pair, her expression almost similar to Cole’s. ---- After a desperate search, Rick and Nina finally find their possible exit; a shaft of the collapsed elevator with a ladder leading all the way down. Half of the door was open enough for them to enter it. “Hurry the hell up—” Rick warns, exchanging looks between Nina, who was gingerly trying to reach the ladder, and the hallway to his opposite side, where he expects the walkers to come from. “Trying—” Nina complains; she was standing on top of the shaky elevator that was barely hanging on from the cables. Rick, squatting on one knee, keenly waits for their impending threat; the scratches and bangs of the only door separating them from the walkers were nerve-wracking. “Any day now lil’ girl—” Nina held onto whatever she could with her right hand while she tries to reach salvation in the form of a red ladder, placed at the left edge of the elevator door; why it was placed there was beyond her. She does the best stretch she can, slowly inching toward the edge of the elevator. The echoing heaves of the metal above her was starting to make her uncomfortable. “Oh, shit—” Rick hears the door break down, slamming onto the linoleum floor. Nina does one more stretch and finally makes contact with the cold metal. “Jump! Jump now!” Rick advises. He turns to see at least two walkers’ shadows becoming visible from the other end. “They’re fuckin’ gonna get ‘ere so if you don’t reach that shit—” Nina heeds his warning and leaps onto the ladder; once her foot made contact with some form of surface, her nervousness lapses. “Shit, shit, shit—” Rick stands up from his position and steps back, glancing to check on Nina if she’s finally reached it. He holds on to one edge of the elevator’s doorway and lets his left foot find something to step on. “Just—keep goin’ down—” he tells her, while he hoists himself down without trouble. “See? That ain’t so hard—” He looks at Nina with a smirk, and she returns it with a half-annoyed look. They both traverse the shaft’s ladder, hoping to touch the bottom-most floor soon. “When the fuck is this gonna end—” Rick exclaims; he needed to talk to calm himself down. Nina looks down below her. “Not far—eek!” She gasps at the sight of a body falling from where they came from. She closes her eyes and speeds up her pace. Two more bodies fall once they reach the ground. Nina tries her best not to look at the fallen while she waits for Rick. “Where—the fuck are we—” He hops down to the floor and brushes the dust away from his pants. “—exiting?” Nina points at the slightly-elevated elevator door to her right corner, already opened for them by a metal bar placed in between. “Lucky fuckin’ day…” Rick hops up onto the entrance and crouches to slip through the bar, with Nina just right behind him. He does yet another brush on his pants while he looks for their next route; the hallway in front of him seemed to look empty. “Over here—” Rick points, looking at Nina. Her abrupt change in expression from distressed to fearful makes him face his front. “Oh, fuck this—” he groans. Walkers were starting to pour in from the hallway, quickly filling its empty space. He looks to his left, then to his right, and finds a door. “Quick!” He puts his shoulder against the door and holds the knob tightly, bracing himself. Once Nina stands to his side, he pushes it and the door opens with no trouble. “Fuck—” he says, upon stepping outside; he thought was going to have to open that door again without assistance. Nina shortly follows after closing the door tightly. “Let’s go.” They find themselves in an alleyway, in the form of a wide pathway. A few walkers stood in their way, too few to be a threat. He does a few pats of his waist to get the one and only weapon he’s got. “Gotta be fuckin’—” It seems he’s forgotten about it nine floors ago. “Alright, alright…” He looks at Nina, then to the walkers, who still haven’t sensed them. “Just run as fast as you can—” Nina gives him a quick glance and doesn’t hesitate, quickly zooming through the path. “—and be careful,” he mutters to himself, and he follows her shortly after. Nina’s light movement helped her pass through the walkers. Rick could barely catch up. “Slow the fuck down!” he calls, but it was no use; she was too far. He tries to speed up his pace, hoping to find Nina; after making a few dodges and zigzags, he soon finds her waiting right next to a door, into a small building. A walker was on the ground nearby her, halfway through standing up. He runs past the walker and stops right in front of the door, trying to catch his breath. “You—okay?” he asks, in between breaths. She nods with a troubled look on her face, and opens the door. They both go inside, with Nina closing the door right behind them. Rick retires to the nearest chair he finds. “Jesus H. Christ—” He continues to breathe heavily as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. “What—what the fuck do we do now?” The loud, piercing groans of the walkers from the other side could only tell him one thing. “Oh, y’gotta be shittin’ me…” He wants to stand up, but the chair is the only relief he wants to hang onto right now. “Rick,” Nina calls, her voice slightly hoarse, and quiet. He was too distracted by the sounds to even get his attention. “Rick!” she shouts, more attitude this time. He turns to her. She puts the top side of her left arm up, in plain view. “W-what—…” “I got bit.” An oval-shaped scar with splotches of ruby-red blood was right in the middle of her arm. ---- “Peter!—slow down—” Scott continues to struggle trailing Peter, who has been ignoring him since they read the letter. The place was certainly unfamiliar for both of them, Peter especially; something about the air alone tells them that they’re not in Ireland anymore. “Nathan?! Jess!” Peter shouts; he’s been shouting names after reading that note and finding their way out of that abandoned office. “Peter—settle down, or y-you’ll attract the walk—” “JESS!” Peter interrupts, raising his voice. He’s been far too fed up, and it’s something Scott can’t seem to understand. The tall buildings around them were starting to subside as they see a grass-filled park in plain view. There were walkers here and there, but they’re too far away to worry about right now. “Nathan! Gareth!!” Peter continues to shout. Scott gives up following him and lets him walk a distance by himself. Since the outbreak started, Peter’s taken the role of leadership. He knows his childhood friend well; he was just a shy, teenaged boy suddenly thrown into the apocalypse. The journey they had to endure wasn’t even over yet. He can only imagine what his friend is going through right now. Suddenly thrown off the path of their journey, probably in another country, reading a note telling them to kill each other until one survives. A man like Peter can only endure so much. He lets his friend continue to shout, as he searches for anything they can probably use; in this case, the most important thing is a weapon. An abandoned police car suddenly catches his eye, and he walks over to it. He struggles to open the door, tugging it a few times; it was already a bit loose, but the collision damage kept it jammed. He gives up and stops, noticing a belt with a holster sitting on the passenger seat. He slips inside of the door’s window, and takes it. The belt was a little bit heavy for the handgun it held. There was even a second clip that came along with it. He turns to Peter and walks toward him, hoping to show what he’s found. “Peter,” Scott calls, from behind him. Much to his surprise, Peter gets his attention and turns to him; perhaps it was because he wasn’t nagging anymore. “Found this gun.” Scott presents the firearm belt in front of him. Peter pauses, looking at it, then takes it. A bit of firepower. Peter finally has something to back himself up with. He examines the dangling handgun and pulls it out. “Peter—” “We’re getting the hell out of here,” he interrupts, grasping the gun in his hand. “We’re going back to that river, where Henry, and maybe Garry, and… maybe Jess is still at.” Scott could see in his look alone that he was just as informed as him. “But that note—” “Doesn’t mean anything.” Peter pauses and looks up, scanning the surroundings. “We’re going to search for Jess, Olivia, Gareth—see if they got into this mess.” Scott’s reaction was blank; his eyes suddenly become distant. “Scott...?” Peter follows the direction of where he’s looking at, and turns around. A figure was standing in the middle of the park, its movement a tad conspicuous. Peter, curious, starts briskly walking toward the figure. Scott, slightly apprehensive, follows him. As they got closer and closer, the figure became clearer; it was a woman with long brown hair, looking down on a corpse lying on a pool of blood. Once Peter steps at a comfortable distance, the woman was kneeling down, looking at the corpse. Scott stops just behind him. “He-hello?” Peter calls, catching the woman’s attention. She shoots her head up and notices the firearm on Peter’s hand. “We—we’re not dangerous, if that’s what you’re wondering—” Scott adds; he pulls Peter’s hand behind him to hide the gun. The woman stands up slowly, her look of confusion not leaving her face. “Did you guys… get a note…? About all this…” Her cautious demeanor made Peter and Scott a bit weary. Peter and Scott look at each other, then to the woman. “Yeah—d-does it say anything about forty-eight survivors?” The woman’s look slightly changes. “Y-yes—it does—” Scott was afraid of what Peter was going to do next, maintaining a firm grip of his arm; Peter tugs it, and walks toward the woman. “W-we need your help—you look just as confused as us—” Scott was surprised at his new approach. The woman seems to look slightly friendlier now, as her cautiousness winds down. “I’m looking for a girl, about my age—” Peter does a few more glances at the corpse; he was wondering why it looked so familiar. “—and a…” Peter stops halfway, his eyes now fully focused on the corpse below the woman. He swallows, and tightens the grip of his pistol. The shirt. The jeans. The hair. There was certainly no mistaking it. Peter rushes to the corpse, surprising the stranger and taking a few steps back. He kneels down, his expression slowly withering to shock. Jess. It was her. Her bloody hand tried to cover the deep-red slit in her stomach. Her lifeless face was drenched, a slit in the bottom of her jaw. Peter shoots a look at the woman, who was slowly backing away. “L-look, I—I just found her like th—” “Peter!!” Scott shouts from behind him; this wasn’t the best time to be hearing his voice right now. “Please—I—I saw her like that—I just g-got here—” Forty-eight survivors. One winner. No trust. No cooperation. The message was ringing much louder in his ears. He aims the gun at the woman, and pulls the trigger. ---- “D’you hear that?” Sam Benson turns to look at his side toward the three gunshots that echoed all the way over here; a small alleyway to hide from the horde of zombies they were trying to misguide. The man to his opposite side had the same expression; worried, but alert. He was known as Ronin, an Asian man with a punkish look in the form of a red streak in his do and a dragon tattoo on his cheek. “You think Sasha’s okay?” Sam sent her to a different path, mostly to do a quick check on the surroundings. Ronin just shrugs. “Why don’t we go check—” Sam stands up and scurries over to the alley’s opening, staying against the wall. Ronin follows and stops right behind him. He does a quick peek on the street. “Fucking shit—” he complains in a mutter. He looks at Ronin, then to his side. “They haven’t left, have they?” Ronin asks. Sam shakes his head. “Then let’s just run.” “Gotcha.” Together, they zoom to a straight path, running as fast as they could; the infected they left behind took notice, but struggled to follow. Fortunately, they were the only herd they can worry about right now. After about a good distance, Sam and Ronin start to run to the direction of the park; the area where they discovered the herd, and where they left Sasha. They stop at the edge of a street, where it overlooks the park in clear view. Ronin takes the lead while Sam goes on a lookout behind them. “Two people,” Ronin whispers, holding up the number two with his fingers; their backs were pressed against the wall of a building. “One’s got a gun, pointing it down—must be the shooter.” “Shit…” Sam replies. “… Sasha?” Ronin turns to him and gives him a blank look. “They… look dangerous?” Ronin turns back to the view. “Two teenagers.” ---- “Jesus, kid…” Rick peeks through the only window in the building, which in his thought, seemed to look like a small garage; the window was placed high above the wall. “You… sure about this?” he asks to Nina, who was standing right next to the door, looking at it eagerly. She looked sunken yet fierce, as tears were falling from her eyes, onto her reddened cheeks; someone who doesn’t want to cry, but couldn’t help it. “O-okay, so… you’re gonna… y’gonna need a weapon…” Rick scans the room, and sets his eyes on the table with pipes piled up on it. He walks over to it and takes one, then hands it to Nina. “Wait, I’m gonna need one too—” He heads over to the desk pushed against the wall, eyeing the file cabinet next to it. He pulls the shelves open and finds something shiny on the second one. “Heh—” A snub-nosed revolver, with a box of bullets to go along with it. He takes the gun and pockets it behind his waist, and fills his pockets with the bullets. He walks back to Nina’s side, and looks at the door. The plan was simple; Nina distracts the walkers, while Rick slips out. Leave the girl to die. Survive. Make her sacrifice not in vein. He holds the knob of the door. “Nice to know ya, kid.” He spares no moment, and pulls it open. The semi-wall of walkers quickly turned their attention to them; Nina zooms out of Rick’s side, wasting no time. ---- “Hey, fuckface!” Peter gets a glimpse of a bald, dark-skinned man hiding behind a wall; he doesn’t hesitate and points his gun toward their direction. Scott, still shocked by the sudden turn of events, stood there frozen, watching Peter’s every move. A friend turned into a cold-blooded murderer, all in a minute. Sam Benson hides behind the wall of the building they ended up in, hoping for their plan to work. He spots Ronin already on the move, the boy unaware of his presence. Peter starts walking toward the building, waiting for the man to come out; the stranger whistles, and it infuriates him even more. He holds the gun with both his hands and waits; the man comes out, and sprints toward the right direction. Peter fires every shot he can, but hits nothing. Ronin, while trying to circle the boy, notices the other one dumbfounded; he ignores him, and focuses on the gunman. While on the move, he takes out his trusty switchblade, which luckily passed the item check they presumably had. He eyes the gunman, using the park’s overgrown grass to cover his movement. Peter continues to move toward his next target, who moved on right behind a tree; the tall grass and the tree’s thickness were his only obstacles. “Fuckin’ c’mon Ronin—” Sam complained, squatting right below the tree. He doesn’t have very many options left, judging from the garbage can and bench to his distance. Scott starts to notice movement from the grass; a blurry shadow of a figure, moving across of it, toward Peter. He shakes off as much shock as he could and starts running toward the figure, but his delayed response makes him stumble to his knee. Ronin, close to the gunman, leaps out from the grass, into the street, where the gunman stood. He didn’t have enough time to react; Ronin’s switchblade has found its way to the side of his throat. Peter was powerless. He drops his gun, and focuses on the man that stabbed him with all his might. But Ronin succeeds; he drags his knife across his throat, and yanks it out. The psychopath falls to his back, his mouth and neck overflowing with blood. “He’s dead—” he shouts; Sam quickly shoots up to his feet and appears from his right direction. He walks toward Ronin, then pauses; he notices the second assailant, standing frozen in place, fear riddled in his look. “Get the gun—” Sam warns, but the assailant turns around and lumbers away. Ronin runs for the boy, but Sam stops him. “He might alert his group—” Ronin urges. “Then we leave. We ain’t stayin’ around.” They watch, as the boy vanishes from their view. Sam walks over to the pair of corpses, hoping to confirm his hunch. Sasha laid flat on the ground, three gunshot wounds in her body. Next to her was a nearly-unidentifiable corpse drenched in blood. “Damn…” Sam mutters. ---- Rick continues to run and doesn’t seize to look back at what he left; the blonde girl, Nina, running right into the middle of the walkers. What she did gave him enough time to flee without notice. He takes the nearest turn he sees, still confused by the maze of alleys. He was forced to stop abruptly, as he meets eyes with another person. A woman, petite, brown hair tied to a ponytail. They both reach for something behind their waists. “I—I got a gun ‘ere. N-no funny business—” he pleads, not taking his eyes off the woman. She stays still for a few seconds, and finally decides to reveal what she was holding; on her gloved hand, a shard of rusty metal. She puts it up in plain view, raising her other arm with it. Rick doesn’t seize holding on to the grip of his pistol. They continue to look at each other for another moment, mostly waiting for each other’s next move. “You…” Rick assumes a more relaxed stance. “You part o’ this mess, too?” The woman innocently nods her head. “Hmm…” He puts his hand down. “Put that thing down so… I can shake yer hand.” The woman relaxes her own stance, and slowly squats down to put the shard away. She stretches her right hand out in front of him. Rick just looks at her hand, then her eyes. “Name’s Rick.” He notices the structure behind her; an unfinished building with prongs of rebar sticking out. The woman brushes the strands of hair away from her face. “L-Leigh.” Rick nods. “Nice to meet ya.” He looks to her left side, then right, and proceeds to walk right past her. He doesn’t bother to return the stare that Leigh gave him. “W-wait,” she calls, halfway through passing. She takes a quick glance of the shard she dropped before looking at him. “We should stick together. Maybe figure a way out…” Rick still doesn’t bother to look. “I… I’d rather not.” He resumes walking. “Do you really believe what that letter said?” This forces Rick to pause. “It didn’t say anything about working together. Maybe it wasn’t included there b-because it was a… loophole, or something. Maybe our way out is—is cooperation.” Leigh adamantly looks at his back, still eyeing the shard; she felt like she’s got a catch here. Rick rubs the corner of his mouth, pondering the thought for a bit; he turns around and looks at her. He transfers looks between her eyes, and the shard right next to her. “Maybe you… need a better weapon than that.” He starts looking around, noticing the bits and pieces of rock on the ground. He turns around, noticing a giant, boulder-like piece of stone just below his feet. “Yeah this—this might work out…” He squats down and picks it up, tossing it around to get a feel of it. Leigh, right behind him, squats down slowly and picks up the shard. He stands right back up, tossing the rock around with both his hands this time. “Looks betta than that piece o’ metal—” Leigh slowly approaches him, hoping for him to stay distracted. “Eh…” Rick looks at the rock one last time, trying to confirm his hunch. He looks sideways behind him, catching a glimpse of Leigh fast approaching. He instantly turns around and swings the rock blindly; it hits Leigh square in the cheek, spitting out blood after contact. She uncontrollably stumbles back, toward the metal prongs. It happened at a glance. Rick drops the smothered piece of rock, unconsciously. He knew it. She provoked him. Leigh has landed on the rebar sticking out of the building; three metal prongs stuck out at different places of her body. “W—sh—” She struggles to talk, as blood starts spewing out of her mouth. Rick takes a few steps back. “It—” He pauses, at the sight of her taking deep breaths, slowly losing her grasp of life. He decides to jog away, toward the direction of where he came from, hoping to leave that image behind as soon as he can. ---- A hulking man with buzz-cut hair and a sawn-off shotgun hid in the shadows as he looked on to two other people, shouting a single name, looking for someone. Behind him, a brown-haired man, lacking the build of his companion, was hoping to get their attention. “We need to help them.” The hulking man gives him a menacing glare. “Let them attract all the zombies. They’re doing us a favor.” They both look on as the two non-infected people continued looking around frantically, fending off the zombies with their makeshift blunt weapons. The message was clear in that note. Survival is key. Last man standing wins. He’ll have to deal with his companion later, but now isn’t the best time. “Where the hell did she go?” one of the people asked; he was an Asian man, with neck-length black hair. “She didn’t have to stray that far from us…” “Maybe over there,” his female companion replies. Soon, they vanish out of view, leaving their followers behind. “What the hell is your deal?” The hulking man just ignores him, stepping out of the shadows. “They probably know what the fuck is going on much like us—” He eyes the zombies they left behind; three or four, scattered throughout the street. “Or they’re probably looking to kill us,” he replies, silencing the brown-haired man. He was known as Brad Fitzgerald. A man, whose committed crimes in his past. A fugitive, trying to change his ways. The man that followed him was Chuck Hope. They never knew each other until they woke up into this predicament. Chuck claims he came from a farm, the same farm Brad ended up in after being picked up by two other survivors. He remembered seeing his face, but they never talked; there was always something needed to be done in that farm. One such thing was to fend off the bandits, led by a man named Grimm. Grimm. The name rings a bell in Brad’s head. He had a best friend named Grimm. Brad runs past the zombies, toward the direction of the pair he was following. Chuck closely followed him. He regrets giving him control of their one and only weapon. Brad freezes, as soon as he hears the same shouting; he squats behind an alley in between two buildings. “Where the hell is Brenda?...” the male says, his voice echoing, riddled with hopelessness. The direction of his eyes seems to be looking at something out of view. “We just have to keep looking over…” The other person’s voice was distant. “… there.” Brad notices the young man look right behind him. “But there’re like, fifty biters over there…” The woman, his companion, walks right past him. “Worth a shot.” He takes a few steps back to hide out of view, as the two others walk right past them, their eyes clearly glued to the zombies they’re looking to fight. “Brad—” Chuck taps his shoulder, but Brad doesn’t budge; he was concentrated on the other two. “—I hear someone—” Brad takes a moment to hear anything, then returns looking at the pair; they were already out of view. Chuck anxiously looks at the other end of the alleyway, anticipating the tapping noises. “…Naomi? Joe?!” a young woman’s voice calls, her voice desperate. “Holy sh—Brad—” Chuck whispers; he notices him carefully walking slowly, toward the shout’s direction. “What the hell are you gonna do?” He exchanges glances between Brad, and the sawn-off shotgun he held with his two hands. Brad eagerly awaits the shout to come closer; he’s hoping he doesn’t have to use this weapon. “Joe—N-Naomi?...” She was edging closer. She heard them shouting her name, but she always struggled to follow. There were too many biters for her to worry about. She carefully walks through the entrance of the alleyway. “Joe…?” She regrets straying away from their biter attack. If all else fails, she’ll just have to go that source of bell ringing and hope they be there. “N—” She freezes, at the sight of two men; one holding a shotgun, the other squatting down, looking as fearful as her. The three stand there, motionless, for a good moment. “J—” The woman opens her mouth to shout, but was forced to stop; she is sent flying back by the blast of the shotgun coming from Brad. “Brad!” Chuck shouts. There were murmurs of concerned voices behind him. “C’mon,” Brad urges; he jogs right past the girl with a single glance. “They’ll be heading this way.” He was going to have to do that sooner or later. He had no choice. If only that girl was at a closer distance, it could have been more silent. Chuck closely follows him, but stops at the sight of the girl, who was looking at him with her near-lifeless eyes. She spewed blood from her mouth as her shelled stomach quivered. “What the hell have you done…” he mutters. She was just a young girl. Long, red hair. Clear blue eyes. He was forced to keep moving, as he could hear footsteps fast approaching behind him. He looks to Brad as he approached him, the look in his eyes lacking any regret. ---- Exhausted. Sick. Dying. Nina didn’t know what word she can use to explain what she was feeling. She dragged herself across the street, after tirelessly running away from the walkers she just fended off for Rick’s sake. She managed to keep her limbs, but at the cost of even more bites. She could barely move her left hand from all of the cuts their teeth made. She isn’t a walker yet, but she could feel it. The heavy droop in her eyes. The sudden decline of energy. The thought of not going on anymore. She couldn’t even shed a tear. This was as close to how she pictured her end. A zombie, part of the herd. Sheep, waiting to get slaughtered. The other was a sudden, abrupt end of her suffering. She looked all around her; abandoned buildings, cars. Signs that the world has indeed ended. She doesn’t even care if she’s in the same place anymore. Her movement alone made her blend in like a walker. Though there wasn’t a single walker in sight. She was all alone, in the middle of the street. She can still end this. Maybe if she bites her tongue as hard as she can… But something else interrupts her from doing so. A hole suddenly explodes in her chest, and she was forced to stumble to her knee. Like that. That’s the feeling she wanted. She looks onward at the source, but couldn’t find anything, thanks to her dim sight. She squints, and sees a distant spark. Everything goes black. ---- “Got it.” A tall, dark-haired man wearing a leather jacket cocks the rifle resting against the car hood he placed it on. He looks to check at the two women behind him; a woman whose brown hair stretches to her shoulders, and a much younger girl, her blonde hair neatly cut short. “You guys okay?” Meghan Dodge looks to the little girl wrapped around her arms; they both nod. Peter has been looking after these two girls since they were part of a much larger group; Meghan was first, while the little girl was second. The three leave their hiding spot from the abandoned car, and resume their path. Peter has just killed the first walker they’ve encountered. He straps the rifle on his shoulder and looks at his two companions; it feels like he’s the father of both of them. Meghan holds the little blonde girl close. She had a talk with Peter about her in the cabin, where they found themselves in. “No matter what, keep her safe. She has to be the last one alive.” Peter remembered seeing that little girl for the first time; she was pale, and sickly. She could barely stand up. Her name was Sydney. But she insists on being called Sniper. Meghan walks up to his side, looking on to the direction of where Peter looked. “What now?” Peter shrugs his shoulder to heave the rifle, the rifle Meghan stumbled upon in the cabin. “Just remember what I said.” Keep her safe. Meghan looks at Sydney, her inanimate expression ceasing to change since they first saw her. Deaths * Sasha (The Choices I Make) * Peter (Peter's Journey) * Leigh Vega (Eden Rising) * Brenda (Morts-Vivants) * Nina Mladenovic (Apocalypse Life) Category:UFSW Hunger Games Category:UFSW Hunger Games Issues Category:Issues